The Dark Side: Critical Perspectives on the Fitness Industry

For all its growth, innovation, and positive impact, the fitness industry has also developed a shadow side; one shaped by excess, exclusion, and misinformation. As it expanded into a global commercial force, several underlying issues began to surface. The very systems designed to promote health and empowerment sometimes foster the opposite.

Commodification and Profit Over People

At its core, fitness should be a public good: movement as medicine, strength as self-reliance. But much of the modern industry is built on commodification. Workouts are packaged into experiences. Wellness is marketed like fashion. Memberships, supplements, tech, and programs are all positioned as must-haves. The goal isn’t always to make people healthier; it’s to get them to spend.

This isn’t inherently unethical. Businesses need revenue. But when profit overtakes purpose, things get blurry. High-ticket classes promise life transformation. Supplements sell magic in a bottle. And beneath it all lies the illusion that fitness can be bought, rather than earned. For some, it becomes less about health and more about consumption.

Access and Inequality

One of the starkest criticisms of the industry is its growing exclusivity. As boutique studios and elite brands proliferate, so too does the gap between those who can afford cutting-edge fitness and those who can’t. The latest classes, gear, and equipment often carry high price tags. A couple of spin classes can cost more than a week’s groceries. A connected fitness bike can cost more than a used car.

Meanwhile, in many communities, basic access remains a barrier. Parks are underfunded. Schools cut physical education. And lower-income populations are statistically less likely to meet basic activity guidelines. The result? Fitness becomes not a universal right, but a lifestyle for the already active and affluent. The risk is a widening “fit-fitter” divide, where those with the means hoard the benefits of movement.

Of course, movement itself remains free. You don’t need a $30 class or a smart device to run, jump, squat, or sweat. Bodyweight training in a park or a hallway can build real strength. Running is still the most democratic form of fitness we have. But the problem isn’t the absence of possibility, it’s the erosion of support, visibility, and cultural momentum behind those low-cost options. When the industry’s loudest voices speak only to the well-funded, it’s easy for the rest to feel left out.

Obsession with Aesthetics

Perhaps no critique is more persistent, or more justified, than the industry’s fixation on appearance. From billboards to Instagram, fitness is often portrayed through a narrow lens: lean, sculpted, young, and visibly able. This emphasis can be inspiring. But more often, it’s alienating.

The promise of fitness becomes a promise of physical transformation. And when that transformation doesn’t come quickly or at all, many feel they’ve failed. In reality, bodies are diverse. Change is non-linear. And health is more than what’s visible in a mirror. Genetics play a significant role—some people respond more quickly to training, carry more muscle, or naturally maintain lower body fat levels. But that doesn’t mean meaningful change is out of reach. Everyone, regardless of starting point, has the capacity to change their body composition and become stronger, fitter, and more capable. The path might look different for each person, but the ability to improve, often dramatically, is universal.

Yet marketing rarely reflects this nuance. Instead, it reinforces a single aesthetic ideal, pushing many toward disordered eating, compulsive exercise, or chronic dissatisfaction.

Misinformation and Unregulated Advice

In the age of viral trends and online coaches, misinformation spreads faster than ever. With no consistent regulatory standard, anyone can become a “fitness expert.” Credentials are optional. Oversight is rare. And pseudoscience thrives.

From detox teas to excessive exercise challenges, the fitness space is full of claims that sound compelling but lack evidence, or outright defy it. For the average person trying to get started, it can be overwhelming. Contradictory advice floods their feed. One day it’s low-carb. The next one is intermittent fasting. Then it’s carnivore. Then plant-based. The chaos breeds confusion, and in many cases, inaction.

The burden of discernment often falls on the individual. But not everyone has the background or time to separate truth from trend. The industry could improve by prioritizing education, promoting evidence-based professionals, and raising the standards for who receives a platform.

Ego, Intimidation, and Toxic Culture

Gyms should be welcoming. Fitness should be empowering. But in some corners of the industry, ego runs the show. Spaces can become uninviting for beginners, for overweight people, or for those with different abilities. Toxic competitiveness, macho posturing, or aesthetic one-upmanship all serve to gatekeep the experience.

This isn’t universal. Many gyms foster incredible community. But the culture still needs attention. Too often, the loudest voices in fitness are the most performative; the influencers shouting grindset slogans while hiding their own burnout, injury, or pharmaceutical use. Authenticity matters. So does humility. Without them, the culture can push people away instead of pulling them in.

Toward a Better Culture of Fitness

Despite its flaws, the fitness industry is not beyond repair. In fact, many of these criticisms are signs of growing pains; symptoms of an evolving field still finding its ethical footing. For every predatory product, there’s a coach committed to real education. For every exclusionary space, there’s a community built on inclusion and support. And for every unrealistic image, real people are showing up, doing the work, and reshaping what fitness looks like.

The dark side of fitness deserves scrutiny. But it’s not the whole story. Around the world, individuals and movements are reclaiming fitness, not as a product to consume, but as a practice to inhabit. One that builds strength, confidence, connection, and self-respect.

Yes, fitness can be about aesthetics. There’s nothing inherently wrong with training to look a certain way. Pursuing a physique goal, stepping on stage, or simply wanting to feel good in your own skin are more than valid and motivating reasons to train. But when those goals are built on a foundation of health and capability, the results tend to be far more sustainable. Strong bodies often become leaner. Functional training often shapes aesthetics as a byproduct. And most importantly, the process becomes more rewarding, because it’s not just about how you look, but what you can do.

The future of fitness doesn’t have to be elite or exclusive. It can be local. It can be evidence-based. It can be deeply human. And it starts with shifting the narrative, from aesthetics to ability, from consumption to capability, from performance for show to movement for life.

Because when fitness is rooted in purpose and made accessible to all, it becomes what it was always meant to be: a tool for empowerment, not exclusion.

Industrius Esto

Jason Curtis